Clarity in Muddied Waters

A Messianic Journey Through Pen and Peace. Writing from the Stillness Within.

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She was a phantom of delight When first she gleam’d upon my sight; A lovely apparition, sent To be a moment’s ornament; Her eyes as stars of twilight fair; Like twilight’s, too, her dusky hair; But all things else about her drawn From Maytime and the cheerful dawn; A dancing shape, an image gay, To haunt, to startle, and waylay.

Love.

Love isn’t presents.

Love isn’t gifts.

Love isn’t romantic dinners, out where there’s mist.

Love isn’t roses.

Love isn’t things.

Love isn’t a big, fat, shiny diamond ring.

Love is in your heart.

Something you can’t see.

Love is heartfelt, the best of the best.

Love is always there, it never takes a rest.

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